


Demise

by FruitfulMind



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Grif is dead why did I write this, I'm so sorry, M/M, abusive parent mention, because I'm a sad sack, just sad, sad fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-27
Updated: 2017-03-27
Packaged: 2018-10-11 19:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10472400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FruitfulMind/pseuds/FruitfulMind
Summary: Takes place after the Meta's defeat; what if Grif didn't make it?





	

He doesn't realize it's begun to snow by the time his helmet comes off, or maybe he just doesn't care anymore. His feet slowly slog through the piling white snow, waiting against the downside of the cliff. The same cliff that he just saw Grif slip down moments ago, Warthog crashing after.

Maybe it's by his own chance, his heart holds out, waiting for Grif to retort, to say anything back in response. Silence follows after, deathly silence that not even the Meta's unearthly growls can break; he's gone too, a victim of the Warthog's own demise. Nothing comes after he hears the far off crash of their beloved vehicle. But Simmons doesn't care, no... he just continues listening for Grif's voice, something to say, “hey, I'm alright dude. Stop being so melodramatic.”

Tucker doesn't know what to do. Sarge, even though he wants to yell at Grif for getting himself-- no. Not even _Sarge_ wants to admit that Grif is gone. He thinks it best to let Simmons have his moment, to get whatever is on his chest off.

But the truth is Simmons doesn't _want_ to believe that Grif is gone. He doesn't want to even imagine for a second what life without him is like. The snow has begun covering Simmons at this point, he can barely see ahead of him with the mixture of blizzard and tears forming from his good eye. Now his other eye – his whole entire side will be a glaring reminder of Grif, one that he can never forget.

He falls to his knees on the dip of cliff, a startling action that makes both the turquoise and red soldier lunge forward. Both of them stop however, hearts racing in their chest as they watch the defeated soldier fall; not to his death, but to his own defeat.

“Grif, come back to me, you idiot...” His own broken voice scares even himself. He never broke this badly, not when his own father tortured him with his abusive words, not when he lost his mother, but now... he could never admit it but maybe, just maybe he loved Grif with all his abrasive heart; and just maybe Grif loved him too.


End file.
